


Distraction

by KMDWriterGrl



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-30 04:56:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11456442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KMDWriterGrl/pseuds/KMDWriterGrl
Summary: After a stressful discussion with the President, Toby and CJ are looking for a much needed distraction.





	Distraction

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: These characters and the universe they inhabit are not mine, nor do I lay any claim to them. They belong to Aaron Sorkin, Chancellor and Overlord of All Things West Wing and Awesome. I am merely taking them out for a stroll ... a long, sexy stroll ... 
> 
> NOTE THE FIRST: Takes place season 2 after the President's MS disclosure to his senior staff but before it's been made public—basically in the time between “Bad Moon Rising” and “The Fall’s Gonna Kill You.”
> 
> NOTE THE SECOND: CJ tells Babish in “The Fall’s Gonna Kill You” that Leo told her about the President’s MS. However, I wanted to show how I thought a conversation between CJ and the President might have been like, so I took some artistic license and had him reveal it to CJ himself. 
> 
> NOTE THE THIRD: As with so many of my fics with CJ and Toby, this started out very serious and then, well, devolved. Into smut. I mean, it's excellent smut, don't get me wrong, but these guys just manage to fall into bed together, no matter how often I try to keep it serious with them. Well ... CJ and Toby have spoken. C'est la vie.

Toby stops CJ on her way to the Oval Office.

“I’ll be here whenever you’re done.” 

She furrows her brow, wondering why he’d even remind her of such a thing. He never leaves before she does. 

“O-kaaay,” she says, her tone inviting him for more details.

“In case you want to talk,” he adds. 

Off those cryptic words, and with a sense of foreboding, she walks to the Oval Office. 

***

“Good evening. CJ.” Bartlet looks sober and stern, which is not necessarily the best look for him. People tend to like him better when his affable nature is on ready display, or seems to be hiding just below the surface. Now he looks like a stern principal who’s just called her to his office to deliver a lecture. 

“Good evening, Mr. President,” she says cautiously. 

“Come on in, have a seat.” Bartlet shuts the door between his office and Leo’s and motions for her to shut the door to the outer office where Ms. Landingham sits, watchfully typing. 

Wondering if she’s about to be fired, CJ closes the door and moves toward the armchair in the seating area, only taking a seat once the President has. 

“I’m about to cause you a lot of trouble,” the President states bluntly. “I’m sorry for that. It certainly wasn’t my desire to do so. And my intentions and desires will most certainly be at the heart of the questions that will arise in the press from what I’m about to tell you.”

Alarmed, CJ can only stare at Bartlet. 

“Sir … are you having an affair?”

Bartlet chuckles drily. “It would actually be easier if that’s all it was.”

He leans toward her but then, as if closing the distance between them is too intimate, draws back. 

“Seven years ago I was diagnosed with a relapsing-remitting course of MS. I lied about it to be able to run for the presidency. There are 18 people on earth who know about this condition. You are the 19th. Toby was 18 … I told him six days ago.”

She feels as though she’s been clothes-lined. She actually feels her throat working for words. The President waits patiently; he clearly understands her need to process the informational bombshell he’s just dropped on her. 

“Are you … are you all right, sir?” she asks, not entirely sure how she’ll react if the answer is “no.” She wracks her brain for anything she knows about MS and realized quickly that she knows little to nothing. 

“I’m fine at the moment, CJ, thank you for asking.” A humorless smile quirks his lips. “Toby didn’t ask; he just commenced with the shouting.”

“That sounds like Toby,” she says though numb lips. “I’m … not sure what to do with this information right now, Mr. President.” 

“At this exact moment? Nothing. I need to tell a few other people on the senior staff and consult with counsel before we make this public. I just wanted to make you aware and let you ask any questions you might have for me.” 

Her head is swirling with shock and surprise; there’s too much to process and her brain doesn’t seem to be kicking out the information she needs. She knows some of what she SHOULD be asking—who diagnosed you, what were your symptoms, have you had an episode while in office—but she can’t vocalize any of it.

The President gives her an understanding smile. “Perhaps some time to digest is in order?”

“I’m sorry, sir, this is just a lot to take in.”

“Understood. Why don’t I block out some time for you around lunch tomorrow? I’m sure you’ll have plenty to say then.”

“Yes, sir.” She pushes up from the chair when the President does and walks toward the door, barely cognizant of doing so. 

“CJ.”

“Yes, sir?”

The President hesitates before finally saying, “See you tomorrow.”

***

The door to the Oval Office closes behind her and she walks back toward the maze of hallways and the relative calm of her office. 

Toby’s voice calling for her breaks her from her reverie. She heads for his office door, still not fully processing what she’s just heard. It’s his hand on her arm that brings her back to Earth with a jolt.

“Hey.” His touch is warm. “You okay?”

“I’m—“ She really has to think about her answer, which rattles her...she normally has a ready reply for anything she’s asked. She finally settles for, “I’m not sure.”

“I wasn’t sure either.” He steers her into his office and shuts the door firmly behind them. “I’m still not sure, to be honest.” He waves her into a chair, though he doesn’t take one himself. He gives her a crooked smile. “I’m guessing you probably didn’t scream at him though.”

“No. He said you did. I can’t think why that surprised me,” she adds drily.

“Yelling at your boss might not be the brightest career move,” he says with a self-deprecating smirk, “but he had to have known it was coming.” Seeing that she won’t sit back in the chair until he sits down, he settles onto the couch and studies her. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking...” She sighs, struggles, censors every thought that comes into her brain before it can unwisely come out of her mouth. “MS?” she finally manages. “For SEVEN YEARS?”

“I know.” He studies her face. “It’s … unfathomable.”

“An affair would be better than this. An affair is understandable...well, marginally. But it’s explainable. This …” She shakes her head. “I’m not sure what to DO with this.”

“I know,” he repeats. “I was there. I’m STILL there.” He peers at her closely. “Want to go for a beer?”

She considers it. “I’m going to need something stronger than a beer.”

***

“Is this strong enough?” Toby asks when CJ answers the door to her town-home. He’s holding a bottle of Grey Goose and a jar of olives. 

“Definitely.” CJ ushers him inside. She’s changed out of her work clothes and into jeans … she feels like shedding her identity as press secretary for a while and being just CJ. Toby’s done the same—he’s in jeans and a dark blue button down with the collar open. The thin gold chain of his Star of David necklace glints dully in the low light. 

“Chinese will be here in twenty minutes.”

“With martinis?” Toby pulls a disgusted face. 

“Hey, you never said you were bringing martinis, you just said you’d bring booze.”

“I’ll make it work.” Toby wanders toward her kitchen. “Where’s that shaker I bought you?”

“Where it belongs—in the alcohol cabinet.”

Toby smirks. “An alcohol cabinet? Is that a poor man’s bar?”

“It’s an ‘I work 60 hours a week and don’t have time to buy anything nicer’ alcohol storage system,” she replies cheekily. “Got a problem with it?”

“Not at all.” He pulls out a shaker and inspects the contents of the cabinet. “Well, martinis are out for now; I refuse to ruin a good martini by drinking it with General Tso’s chicken. You have rum; I can make mai tais.”

“With Chinese?”

“There are a limited number of cocktails that pair with Chinese, unless you have beer.”

CJ hunts through the fridge and finally comes up with some Sam Adams. “Tsing Tao would be better but this is all I’ve got.” 

“Any orange juice in there? I can make us screwdrivers after dinner.”

“That I do have.” CJ closes the fridge and passes him a beer. “You yelled at him?”

“Yeah.” Toby pulls the bottle opener out of a drawer and snaps both of their beers open. “Enough that I’m lucky I didn’t get fired.”

“What did you say exactly?”

“Oh, the usual … integrity. Honesty. I’m pretty sure I mentioned the term ‘coup d’etat’ somewhere in there but I was pretty riled up so it’s hard to remember.”

“I’m not at anger yet,” she says, sipping from the bottle. “I think I’ll get there eventually. Right now I’m just--”

“Shocked and dismayed? Confused and befuddled?” 

“Those last two mean the same thing,” she points out. “Actually, so do the first two.”

Toby rolls his eyes. “What do you want from me?” He follows her into the living room and takes his usual seat—the armchair near the lamp—while she sits on the end of the couch nearest to him. They sip their beer in silence.

“This is going to be awful,” she finally says. 

“No doubt.”

“I’ll need to have a lawyer before I get subpoenaed.”

“Yeah.”

“My staff is going to be subpoenaed. I need to tell Carol.”

“You can’t tell her yet. You have to wait for it to break.”

“I know.” She takes a healthy swig from the bottle. “They’re going to look into my finances. I need to make sure everything’s in order.”

“Is this really what you want to be focusing on right now?” Toby finally asks.

“What else is there?”

“Booze.” He holds up his bottle. “We can get drunk and forget we work together.”

She eyes him carefully, trying to determine his degree of sincerity with that remark, and is saved from answering by the knock on the door from the Chinese restaurant. 

***

Every meal they share at the White House is consumed in front of a TV with the news on which, on reflection, doesn’t seem like a terribly healthy habit. But they’re so used to it that the room feels too quiet, even when they talk. Finally CJ does turn on the TV, but she turns it to TCM, where a Godzilla marathon is playing; terrible special effects and monsters threatening to destroy Tokyo are infinitely preferable to the current news cycle. And it feels good to laugh, especially with Toby. His laugh may be rare but it is rich when it rings out. 

By the time they finish dinner she’s feeling a little calmer. Neither of them feel like discussing the elephant in the room, so they don’t. They watch the next movie instead—Godzilla versus Mothra—and Toby makes the promised screwdrivers. 

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” CJ asks with a laugh when he hands her a screwdriver that’s rather larger than what she would be served at a bar. 

“I’m trying to relieve your stress... however I possibly can.”

The note of flirtatious invitation in his voice is unmistakable, but it takes her a minute to process it. Their relationship has always remained firmly on one side of a two-sided coin—there is flirtation, yes, but it has never crossed a line to outright proposition. They’ve never truly been in sync enough for it anyway—Toby and Andi were on again-off again for quite a while; it was much the same with her (too infrequent) boyfriends. They’ve never been single at the same time, never in a place where an invitation, were it to be extended, could be answered. 

“What are you advocating specifically?” CJ asks with a small smile. She’s pretty sure she knows where he’s headed, but she wants to hear him say it rather than assuming that she knows what’s on his mind. 

“Distraction,” Toby replies matter of fact my. “We could both use some.”

“Well.” CJ takes a sip of her drink. “That IS true … but it isn’t what a woman wants to hear when a handsome man is propositioning her.”

Toby looks startled—he apparently hadn’t expected to hear her come straight out and call a spade a spade. “I’m sorry … I guess I figured you’d appreciate the pragmatic approach.”

“Because I’m such a pragmatic woman?”

“Because I wasn’t sure you’d want to do this otherwise.” Toby looks down at his hands, fidgets with the wedding ring he still wears, now more out of habit than anything else. “I thought tangling emotion into it might make it more complicated; there’s more than enough complication in our lives without adding to it with a--”

“What, a workplace romance? You know how quickly THAT would go south.”

“Hence the pragmatic wording of ‘distraction.’”

CJ nods. “I understand it. I guess I was hoping that I meant more to you than just a distraction.”

“You do,” Toby replies immediately. “You know you do.” He sets his glass down and extends his hands to her. She lays her hands in his. “You’re my best friend, CJ. When I need someone, you’re my first phone call. Of course you mean more to me.” 

“But I’d also serve as a good distraction?”

“We don’t HAVE to word it that way,” he says, amused. “And we also don’t have to go down that path if you don’t want to. We can just sit here and have screwdrivers and watch monsters destroy Tokyo.”

“No.” She nudges her glass aside. “No, I want to try this. To be perfectly honest I’ve always wanted to.”

He looks flattered. “Have you?”

“Well …you can only flirt with someone for so long before you do start to wonder what it would be like.” She makes room for him on the couch. 

He sets his drink down and moves over next to her. “I have wondered. Extensively. Especially when I see you in an evening gown.” He runs his fingers up and down the inside of her wrist, making her shiver. “May I kiss you?”

“So grammatically correct,” she murmurs, grinning, before turning her face up to his. “Kiss me.”

It’s a sweet kiss, lingering, slow, with a simmering warmth that underlies the first gentle press of their lips. CJ lets herself fall into it, opening her mouth to his, enjoying the warmth and pressure of his mouth on hers. Toby slides his hand into her hair, his fingers pressing gently to draw her closer to him.

Cradling the back of her head, Toby pushes her back onto the sofa cushions until they’re both reclining. His warm weight on top of her is a welcome surprise; she’d never imagined how it would feel to be underneath him. She moans softly and deepens the kiss, her hand wrapped around the back of his neck to hold him to her, his fingers tangled in her hair. 

“Are you distracted?” CJ asks when they break apart, giving him a wicked smile. 

“So incredibly distracted.” He skims a hand down her body, his eyes dark with desire. 

“Can I distract you some more? In my bedroom, perhaps?”

“You absolutely can.” He rolls off of her, extends a hand to help her up. “If you’re positive this is what you want.”

In answer she pulls him to her and kisses him again, harder this time, her hands gripping the muscles in his shoulders. His hand slides to the small of her back and he pulls her up tight against him, pressing his hips against hers. He’s rapidly hardening and CJ feels it; she grinds against him and smiles in satisfaction when he groans longingly. 

“God, you’re a vixen,” he murmurs against her mouth. “How do you know just what to do to get me hard?”

“I’m good in bed.” She gives him a saucy grin, knowing he’ll remember the night a few months prior when a group of people outside the Kennedy Center overheard her proclaiming that exact sentiment to a former boyfriend. She takes his hand and urges him after her. “Bedroom’s this way.”

She pushes him down on her bed and immediately begins to divest him of his clothes. He pulls his shirt over his head and then tugs insistently at hers until she takes it off, leaving her in a bra and a thin gold necklace. He runs his hands up and down the curves of her waist, laying a searing trail of kisses down where his hands have just been. 

The playfulness between them goes, urgency taking over instead. Welcome distraction has shifted into intensely deep mutual attraction; this is something they’ve known would happen almost from the day they met, and they’re both more than ready to finally let it happen.

Before Toby can really process her movement, CJ somehow has most of his clothes off and is taking him into her mouth. Startled but pleased, he leans back on his elbows and rides the immense sensations she’s causing with her warm hands and hot breath and skilled tongue. 

“Sweet Jesus, CJ,” he gasps out, so aroused he can barely stand it. He buries his hands in her hair and groans. “You’ve got me so hot I can barely think straight!” 

“I thought it might do you some good to see how skilled I am with my mouth,” she says slyly, using her hands to work his shaft before bending her head back over him. 

He can only gasp out a few incoherent words in response to the double assault of her hands and her mouth stroking him to an aching hardness. 

“I can make you come this way,” she murmurs a few moments later. “Is that what you want?”

“Oh baby, I’m sure you can...but I’d much rather be inside you when I do.” He groans as she continues to massage him slowly with cunning fingers. “I mean it, CJ, I’m not going to last if you keep it up. I want to be inside you.” 

He gently disentangles his fingers from her hair. She rolls onto her back and stretches languidly. He lets his eyes roam up and down the length of her body. “Are you ready for me or do you need my hands?”

She slips off the thin wisp of silk panties and guides his hand to the warmth between her legs. “Why don’t you tell me?”

He slips one finger inside her, then another. She’s hot, wet, more than ready for him, but he still moves slowly as he balances his weight on his arms and aligns his body with hers, no matter how much he wants to bury himself inside her with one thrust. He lets her guide his hips, taking his time, leaning down to kiss her willing mouth as he pushes gently. She moans as he enters her, lust but with a soft note of pain behind it, and he pauses. 

“Too much?”

“No, I’m fine.” She takes in a deep breath. “I just need a minute.”

“Take your time. I could stay right here inside you all day.” 

She runs her fingers into his hair, her body relaxing as she stretches to fit him. “I hadn’t imagined it would feel like this.”

“What DID you imagine?” He strokes her thigh, running his fingers lightly, teasingly, along her skin. 

“I thought it might be harder, faster, a little more animalistic.”

“Next time around,” he says against her mouth. “Right now I want to memorize your body.”

He starts moving gently inside her, kissing along her neck, her collarbone, her breasts, cataloguing what makes her gasp or moan. It doesn’t take much for him to realize just how much he loves pleasuring this beautiful woman. She gives herself over to the experience wholeheartedly, not at all hesitant or shy even though it’s their first time together. 

He works her steadily up toward a climax, waiting for the moment when he’ll send her careening over the edge, eager to feel the change in her breathing and body when he makes her come.

“Toby,” she gasps out, arching under him. “I’m so close.”

“Good,” he murmurs in her ear, twining her fingers with his as he steadily thrusts. “That’s good, sweetheart. I want you to come for me.” 

And he’s close, too, so damn close, ready to spill inside of her. “Do you want to feel me come for you, CJ?” he groans. “Tell me you do.”

“Yes,” she pants. “God, yes, I do” and the breathy moan in her voice is all it takes for him to fly apart.

He can’t remember ever climaxing quite so hard, not with Andi, not with anyone. He dimly hopes he isn’t hurting her as he drives into her. He feels her nails digging into his back, hears her cry out his name again and again in desperate gasping moans before she sinks limply onto the mattress beneath him. 

He rolls off of her but remains inside, stroking her hair back from her face as they both lie together, breathing hard. 

“You okay?” he asks when he has his own breath back. “CJ?”

Her eyes focus on him as if she’s just come back from being miles away. “Hey.” She gives him a small satisfied smile.

“Hey, yourself.” He lays his hand across the plane of her stomach, caressing up and down with his thumb. “Was that too much too fast?”

She stretches luxuriously. “Not on your life! it was perfect.” She plays with his fingers. “Did you come?”

He laughs. “You must have been up on cloud nine not to notice. Yes, I came. It felt amazing.” He traces circles on her stomach. “Much better because I was inside you.”

“Well …” she gives him an impish grin. “You say ‘much better’ but you don’t really have anything to compare it to. Perhaps you’d like me to blow your mind again … so to speak.”

Toby laughs. “It’ll have to wait a little bit, I’m afraid. I’m not 20 anymore.” He lets his hand slide lower down her belly. “But now that you mention it...I could blow YOUR mind again.”

She raises a skeptical eyebrow. “You can try … but I’ve never had multiple orgasms.”

“I can make it happen.” He slides his arm around her shoulders so he can comfortably cradle her, then slips his fingers inside her and begins to stroke her gently but insistently, high up near her clit. 

“Oh my god!” she gasps in surprise as warm sensations start building up between her legs again almost immediately. 

“Didn’t I tell you?” He plays his fingers across the nerves that he knows will be most sensitive. “What was that about never having a second orgasm?”

“I’ve never …” Her back arches off the mattress as her fingers scrabble for a hold on the sheets. “God! I can’t …”

“You can do anything with the right incentive,” he murmurs in her ear. “Why don’t you come again for me, Claudia? I know you can.”

Her body is nearly vibrating with frenzy. “Toby … oh my god!”

“That’s it. You’re so close, honey. Grab it while it’s there. I’ve got you.”

She comes hard, grabbing his shoulder and panting as she rides out that wave of molten pleasure. He holds her all the way through it, then coaxes more tremors out of her with his fingers in order to give her a long, rolling orgasm that leaves her limp and breathless.

“Oh my god,” she murmurs wonderingly. “I didn’t think that was possible.”

“Want to try again?” he teases. 

“I wouldn’t survive it!” 

He chuckles and eases her fully onto the bed before moving to get her a glass of water and a cool washcloth. 

Once they’ve both cleaned up, he lies back down beside her and draws her close to him. He’s not much of a cuddler normally, but he likes the feeling of her in his arms and wants to prolong it. She’s happy to oblige and spoons up against him, relaxing back against his chest with a soft sigh.

He brushes her hair back from her cheek. “How are you feeling?”

“Mmm.” He can hear the grin in her voice. “Very nicely distracted.”

He laughs. “Better than getting drunk?”

“SO much better than getting drunk.”

Toby plays his fingers up and down her hip. “Clearly this isn’t stress relief we can partake of on a nightly basis, but I wouldn’t mind having it on the table.”

Deliberately misunderstanding him, CJ quips, “Or on the chair, or the couch, or the floor …” and is thrilled to hear his laugh. 

“Things are about to get harder at work…”

“Things just got harder here,” she smirks, rolling away from him when his fingers find her ribs to tickle. 

“It would be nice if we could do this every now and again,” he finishes softly.

CJ rolls onto her back so she can meet his eyes and they share a long, warm look. “I think it would be, too.”

The stressful events of an incredibly long day, several cocktails, and two orgasms are all conspiring to send CJ straight to sleep. Nonetheless, she lays a hand on Toby’s arm and murmurs, “Wake me up if you want a little more distraction.”

Toby laughs and leans down to kiss her forehead, before pulling her closer to his chest. “Count on it.”

END


End file.
